


I fear I'm losing something important

by Cereal_at_2am



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Gore, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I don't plan this to be super long, Kinda, Not Beta Read, References to Depression, Self-Doubt, Swearing, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, be warned, courtesy of Remus, just one scene though, later though, self deprecating thoughts, siblings bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cereal_at_2am/pseuds/Cereal_at_2am
Summary: Something is happening with Roman, but no one decides to do anything until it is already too late.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 84





	1. Take my colours, take my purpose, take my name

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! First fanfic, wrote this at an unreasonable time so i can only hope this is somewhat coherent, go easy on me  
> Tell me if I forget tags, also tags might change.  
> Anyway, have fun, but take care of yourselves :D

There is beauty in everything, Roman thinks. Even the most gruesome and vile scenarios will find fans to admire it. He knew Remus certainly finds their artistic potential. 

His brother would find beauty, even fun, in horrible accidents, the worst outcomes and darkest visions. It doesn’t mean he would want any of it to happen to them in real life. We’re talking about the mere idea. Of violence, of bloodshed, the inevitable process of death. The things that were seen as disgusting by the majority. Remus finds beauty in the repulsive. 

“It is its very own form of art, brother dearest.”

He dances in the dark, free of stares, keeping everything he likes close. His outlet is his work, and it speaks back to him.

Roman would find himself to be jealous, sometimes. Of the freedom he feels is never quite in his reach. Roman fantasizes about a life where he could dance and sing and paint with bright and various colours, and no one to tell him to stop and to shut up and to keep still.

But there is one controversial sanctuary that comes with the artistic gene. It is the loneliness, the lack of sound and relentless judgment, when no one understands what you were trying to convey, when they find explanations for things that were never meant to be explained, merely experienced.

“Tell a blind man of the colour blue”, he remembers reading somewhere. “you will find yourself unable to describe it, but compare it with feelings.”  
Art is a sensation, meant to be felt, to be seen, never to be put into a simple documentary, one he found Logan watch, trying to understand it.

Roman wonders sometimes if this is what Remus meant. If they were simply deprived of the sense to experience his specific form of art. 

<><><>

Logan was right, Roman decided. The world isn’t black and white, not even gray. 

It is red, and blue, and yellow, and cyan, and magenta, and green, and orange, and purple, and brown, and so, so many shades and variations of colours. 

Complicated. Beautiful. Overwhelming. 

<><><>

His own loneliness feels welcoming, when he ~~escapes~~ leaves to his room, and no one is there to see him. To hear him. To judge him, to shush him, to trap him with stupid dilemmas he wasn’t equipped to discuss. It wasn’t his job. 

Not that they ever really wanted to hear his opinion, either.

But now he was in his room, and there was music playing, the paint melted off his walls to form a new scene, one more fitting his mood.  
Green and Blue. Yellow turned to brown. 

But there was also so much grey. It mixed with the rest. There seemed to be a lot of grey recently. Roman feared it meant something he wasn’t ready to think about.  
It’s been too long since he experienced a full rainbow.

He ignored it for now. Roman had other things to worry about.

<><><>

The trees seemed to droop over the lake. It lacked energy. It lacked saturation. 

Roman sat in the damp grass, not caring if it dyed his outfit brown and green. He could wash it white again, if he wanted. He just didn’t want to.  
He looked up at the sky, full of grays, when it began to rain. It blurred his vision. Roman didn’t care. He didn’t want to move, so he didn’t. 

It could’ve been hours, just sitting there, letting the water mix with the rest of the world. Roman’s made up world, a fantasy, his kingdom. Right now it was just trees.  
Roman felt cold. 

<><><>

“What the hell are you wearing?” 

Roman looked up from his sketchbook to the purple side. Virgil. Right.  
The prince smiled, light and easy going. Meant to assure. Roman was dressed in a completely white dress. No accessories, no extras, short sleeved, no colours. 

“It’s comfortable.”

Virgil eyed him, unsure. He diverted his eyes to look at the stairs. 

“I’m just saying… I mean, if you’re comfortable, I guess, you can wear whatever you want, it just caught me off guard. It’s just very simple, you know? Not very… like you?”

Roman could only give the other man a questioning glare, before he decided to pack up his art supplies and sink out.

Virgil stared at the spot Roman was just seconds ago, trying to process what just happened.

“Alright then, just leave me here to over think this, I guess.”

Virgil felt uneasy. He tried to brush it off. 

<><><>

Remus loved the warmth, and he always surrounded himself with anything that would emit heat. When they were younger, he and Roman would cuddle under blanket fords, telling each other stories with flashlights and shadows. His brother was a radiator, always bright and seemingly running on energy alone, often running around without a reason. Roman would laugh and create suns and stars and flowers.

Remus would kill and wilt the flowers, watch them decay and fall apart. Roman would watch with him, trying to figure why they lost their colours when they died, before making new ones. Fields over fields of flowers and life. 

Watching it bloom and thrive, then watching it die and disappear. The twins loved to create this cycle, because it meant they could do it over and over and over again. The infinity of it all. It was colourful, bright and warm, and dark and cold. Always in motion. 

Creativity loved to create. And destruction was an important part of that.  
But someone decided it wasn’t moral, that it was scary. And maybe it was, but that was not Creativity’s part to recognize.  
Maybe it was scary, but Remus knows it’s never wrong. It was natural, Logic tried to argue. 

Remus watched another flower die, before he ate it. He didn’t want it to come alive again. 

<><><>

Roman looked at his outfit. The once vibrant red sash, now washed out and dull. Not even the artificial paint helped. Or maybe it did. He found he couldn’t recognize the different shades anymore. 

He took a deep breath, and sighed. 

Days have passed, maybe a whole month. Thomas was taking a well deserved break thanks to Deceit. Maybe he was right. Maybe they were right.  
Not once did Thomas call him up again, so Roman only ever left his room to engage in their normal life routines. 

Breakfast and the occasional movie night, that was. 

But he felt uncomfortable, pretending they didn’t have a huge fall out. Like Patton never turned into a giant toad, like Logan wasn’t skipped a hundred times in every conversation, like Virgil wasn’t missing at all, like Deceit hadn’t revealed his name and made them turn a 180 on their lifestyles, like they hadn’t shown him that nothing he says ever mattered at all. 

Roman was supposed to sit relaxed next to them as they played the same movie over and over and over again.

That role was increasingly hard to play, especially since his vision seemed to fail him, too.

Why couldn’t he see his red? Of all colours to lose, why his?

<><><>

The giant bird creature in the sky above fell, making Remus giggle in delight. In less than two minutes it would fall into the giant machinery he constructed. Ripping apart the flesh, painting the blades red. 

The dark clad man danced as the sound of cracks filled the air. Remus imagined Patton watching it with him, pretty sure that the fatherly side would break down. Would Patton’s tears be blue? 

That image was unusually beautiful in his mind. 

<><><>

“Is everything alright, Roman?”

Said side flipped through the pages of a colouring book, a yellow marker in his hands. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. The sash was missing. 

Janus stared at him with a concerned expression. He overheard the others talk about the prince when he wasn’t in the room. 

_I don’t know, he’s just acting weird._

_Do you think he’s sick?_

“I’m sorry.”

_I don’t see him drawing anymore, or hear him sing._

_I think we just need to give him time to sort himself out._

Janus shook his head in confusion. 

“Roman, what are you sorry for?”

Only then was the creative side looking up at him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked exhausted. 

“For villainizing you. I think I was frustrated, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

With the smile never leaving his face, like he couldn’t get rid of it, he sunk out, forgetting his colouring book on the table.

Janus glanced at the pages. Everything was drawn in yellow.

<><><>

Roman watched with a neutral expression as the last colour drained from his room, from his vision, from his eyes. He sat there, staring at the white wall. 

He held onto his favorite brushes, as if letting go would make them disappear as well. Everything was gray now. His soul ached, yearned for a form of release; it made him feel like screaming. But roman stayed silent, holding the brushes tighter. 

Yellow was the last colour to leave him, now he had nothing. And though the world around him stayed silent and calm and gray, his insides burned like acid. But his vocal chords denied him a verbal outlet. 

All he could do was sit in his dimmed room and silently stare at his walls. Eventually the burning sensation left him too. He felt numb, but at least it was quiet now.

But Roman remembered that there was beauty in everything. Maybe he could find beauty in this world, too?

<><><>

Logan looked at him weirdly. Patton shot him a concerned glance. It was possibly because he wasn’t eating his breakfast. It’s not as if they needed food to survive, considering they were not even real. Roman didn’t see the point of eating it if everything tasted like static. 

But he smiled and he laughed and recounted the ideas he found in his drawer. They were enough for now.

They didn’t feel real.

<><><>

The room seemed to not only lose its colours, but its light as well. Roman is sure it is a lot darker now. He regretted not thinking about it earlier. He might have been able to do something about it, to stop it, maybe. 

But as usual, he ignored the warning signs. He ignored it when he couldn’t see green anymore, when purple disappeared, and then blue and orange. He just moved on when he couldn’t see red and yellow anymore.

When Roman tried to remember more colours; his mind just drew more blanks.

Now he watched his door lose its engravings, slowly erasing every one of his drawings, empty canvases around him. 

He once bathed in the solace of his room, because he could do and feel as he desired, it felt so… so…  
Roman tried to explain what he felt, but the words wouldn’t come to him. But he remembered that he liked it.

He liked it.

He liked the silence in his room.

It felt oppressing now.

He needed to get out of this room, so he stood up and started walking. Where to, he didn’t care. 

<><><>

Remus was confused. This was the most fun he had in years. 

The realm of imagination was in bright tangerine flames, the sky painted red, trees turning black and gray, before the fire was extinguished by purple and blue and lime green rain drops. Plants and animals glowing a bright yellow that did not come from the fire. They breathed, and they sung. 

The wind picked up single sparks from the dying fire and carried it around, looking like little stars, dancing with the fireflies and emperor moths.  
There was warmth on his face, his cheeks. He was smiling at the sight. It was short lived.

Remus felt alive, and that unsettled him. This was a feeling reserved for his brother, not him. This warmth, this calm comfort, he felt clear and dare he say, happy? Remus wasn’t supposed to be able to feel all these things. To make all these things. They both were supposed to take care of their own shit. It was almost as if he acquired full creative control all of a sudden.

Creativity felt his heart drop.

Remus found he didn’t like dread. 

<><><>

“I don’t know, I’m just really worried! He’s not responding, we haven’t seen him for weeks and according to every one of you he’s been acting really strange lately! I think we should go to him.”  
Patton was pacing back and forth in the common room. Logan eyed him from the kitchen counter, holding an empty coffee mug. 

“I’m with Patton here, I think something is going on.” Janus piped in, eager to just leave the others and look for Roman by himself. 

“Well no one asked _you_. Patton is right, I think something’s up.” Virgil was curled up in a blanket on the couch, fiddling with his hoodie strings.  
Janus shot him a disapproving glare, before simply sighing. 

Logan spoke up next, “Have you tried asking Thomas? He might be able to summon Roman. I have to admit, I am starting to get worried as well.”  
Patton stopped, looking at the logical side. “Of course! How did I forget that was an option?”  
Not wasting a second, the fatherly side rose up to Thomas, who was in the middle of preparing dinner for himself.  
Janus appeared next, followed by Virgil, then Logan. 

Thomas almost dropped his plate, but caught himself in the last moment.

“Thomas can you do something for us real fast?” Patton blurted out. He was trying to stay calm, failing miserably. 

“Sure, uhm.. did something happen?”

Logan shook his head.  
“Probably not, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. We were going to ask you to summon Roman.”

Thomas blinked. 

“Who?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to exactly one song while writing this.  
> Do with that information what you like.


	2. My weapons are not sharp enough to fight it anymore, sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took a while, blame my school work  
> Just wanted to thank you for the comments, you're all so valid and I am but a small person with crippling social anxiety  
> anyway, heed the warnings

There is something in his eyes. It glows and it flickers. A fire, he thinks. 

But it’s cold. Not cold enough to make him shiver, but enough to let him know it could never warm him, try as he might. The mirror in front of him showed a distorted reflection of a prince. Grey and white and white and grey. 

Roman sees something in his eyes, glowing and flickering and cold. 

He used to be warmer, he knows. 

The walls of his castle used to be covered in golden decorations and candles, red and elegant flags, his symbol big and proud to show the world he was there, the windows used to be clear crystal, creating faint rainbows when the sun shone through them. 

Now he was stepping over dead leaves and vines, rotten rose petals littering the floor. Roman doesn’t remember the great halls ever looking so dim. 

He left his reflection behind, heading towards the room of his origin. Not once did he pass any of his villagers on the way there, and the former ruler wondered where his people went. 

Did they run away?

He couldn’t hold it against them. If Roman was honest – because really, what else did he have left at all? – if he had met the prince himself, Roman would have run as well.  
This castle was empty. No one called for the royal in white.

But his throne would wait for him. It always did.

<><><>

“Who?”

Thomas set the plate on the counter now, turning around to give the others his full attention.

“Roman.” Janus repeated, “We wanted you to summon Roman, if you could.”

A moment of silence passed through the round.

“I’m sorry, but who’s Roman?” he looked to be genuinely confused, which only Logan seemed to register. 

Patton awkwardly chuckled. “I do appreciate jokes like any other, kiddo, but we’re really kinda worried here. Can you please get Roman’s attention for us real fast?” The fatherly side fiddled with the sleeves of his cat hoodie, trying to ease some well hidden anxiety. 

“Patton-“

“You really don’t know who Roman is.” Logan interrupted Thomas, a statement, not a question.

Virgil looked between the three, his eye shadow dark.

“Are you serious right now? Enough joking around, c’mon. Roman? You know? Princey? Sir Extra-every-chance-I-get? Fuck’s sake, Creativity?”

Virgil’s spiral in anxious frustration halts when recognition in the other sparked at ‘Creativity’. 

“Creativity! You could have just said so, yeah I can summon him.” Janus was about to point out the strange tone, when with one quick motion with his hand, Thomas summoned his creativity. 

In confused dread, they watched Remus Sanders, Duke of creativity, rise up in front of the TV.

They watched Remus _rise_ up. 

Said side looked startled, a look of horror on his face. 

For a minute, they all just stared at each other in silence.

“Excuse me, what the fuck.”

<><><>

Sometimes things just aren’t easy. Sometimes things are hard, challenging, confusing and incredibly scary. Sometimes the only thing you need is for someone to hold your hand, telling you it’ll be alright. That even though things are scary and overwhelming, they’ll be here. 

Sometimes you don’t have that. Sometimes you walk a path that is dark and so incredibly lonely. You tell yourself that you can do it, that you’ll be able to make it to the other end, maybe not unharmed, but you’ll make it. 

Sometimes Roman wishes he could just talk. Roman wishes he could talk without barriers, without fears, without pain.  
Sometimes he wishes he believed in himself just a little bit more, maybe he could make it. Sometimes he wishes he could walk, confident and proud, with people looking up to him, seeing a bright star in a world that is dark. 

Roman wishes he could be strong enough to be that someone to guide them through the bitter cold. Roman wishes he could grab his sword and smite this painful feeling. For others, and maybe himself, too.

But all the former prince could do, was sit on the fading gold and silver throne, on the elevated pedestal, like a display of something he never wanted to become. For all to see, all of his mistakes and failures. 

_Look at this! This is what dying looks like! Because he wasn’t strong enough to fight the evil forces! So arrogant to think he could do it alone! His own fault for not reaching out sooner!_

_Weak._

_Useless._

Vines adorned with thorns slithered out of the corners, scratching and damaging pristine marble floor. They reached the throne, getting a hold of his arms, continuing to grow around his chest. It was getting harder to breathe, but fighting against it seemed worthless, not that Roman even tried. 

He sat there, watching as the windows cracked and shattered into pieces, decorating the ground like million tiny diamonds.

Tears, clear and cold, fell with the crumbling walls. 

Roman did not dare to look up to watch his kingdom fall. He closed his eyes and cried.

<><><>

Remus just stared at the other four, before swinging his Morningstar against the carpet, leaving a dent in the floor.

“What in the actual fuck was that. That felt different. Not good kinda different.”

Virgil, Patton, Logan, Janus and now Remus turned to Thomas, who all but hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. He looked at his sides, not understanding their confusion. They wanted to summon Creativity, did they not?

Deceit stepped forward. “Thomas?”

“Yeah?” 

“Look me in the eyes.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

And he did just that, only shifting a little defensively.

“Answer me this one question. Who is Roman Sanders, Prince of Creativity?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas answered, eyes glazed over. He snapped out of it fast enough. 

“What was that?!” 

“That should not be your main concern, Virgil. He speaks the truth.” 

“W-what?! What are you talking about?”

Logan flipped out a tiny notebook. “Fascinating.” 

“Wait, what is going on here? Why are you talking about my brother? Where is he anyway?” 

<><><>

Reality swam in and out of focus. Had he not sat down first, Roman was sure he would have passed out by now.  
The sinking feeling was back.

A breeze moved through the quiet room, taking some of the dead, crusty remnants of the leaves with it. The crystal pieces glittered in the light.

It looked pretty.

The word made his stomach turn.

The ground started to shake.

<><><>

“What do you mean you haven’t seen him for weeks? What the fuck did you think he was doing? Just fucking locking himself in his room, not eating, not drinking, you haven’t heard him sing much less speak at all and you thought this is something he’ll be over soon!? What is wrong with you?” 

Janus took a step forward, a hand hovering on the duke’s shoulder, meaning to calm. “Remus.”

The green clad man stepped back, slapping the hand away from him. 

“What is wrong with _me_? I’ve had these weird feelings, and suddenly it was so warm and then there was the forest and the fire and-and all these colours, these _motherfucking colours_. And I think roman felt it and I felt it too, why didn’t _I_ do anything!?” 

“Remus, you need to calm down.”

“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay, we’ll look for him.”

“NO. I felt it! And I had fun! Do you know what this even means!? You don’t, because you’re not us. Fuck this, fuck you. I’ll look for him myself.”

That was all the warning they got before the duke turned around and sprinted. 

Without a hint of hesitation, they ran after him, leaving Thomas behind in the kitchen. The man stared at his unfinished dish. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

<><><>

The prince gripped the throne tighter, a shaking vibration threatening to throw him to the ground.

Stones and debris littered the floor, an artificial light coming through the ceiling.

There were more leaves now, Roman thinks that they used to be green. 

<><><>

The long hallway that led to the imagination seemed to stretch into infinity. 

Remus knew the realm of imagination by heart, every corner and every stone. He ran, creating a bigger and bigger distance between him and the others behind him. He ignored their calls and focused on the echo of his hastened footsteps.

He should've listened to his gut, this nervousness he felt days ago.

Worry, fear, insecurity, all things he was not bothered with before.

Were they what his brother felt?

There was a bright light, the dark tunnels of the mind disappeared behind the group, and then they were surrounded by trees and hills and the sound of singing birds. The tune turned melancholic.

The village in the distance looked deserted, haunted.

_Where is Roman?_

"The castle!" Janus called behind him, making Remus look up to see the palace that Roman built for himself. 

It was an escape, a place for his brother’s quests and daydreams. 

It was falling apart. They were just in time to see another one of the towers fall.

"Roman-!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah well. bad news: roman's not doing so hot, good news: next chapter should have a semi-happy ending :D  
> (also english is not my native language, so there might be errors)


End file.
